


The Time and Place

by boltlightning



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-27
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-02-14 23:35:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2207265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boltlightning/pseuds/boltlightning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>16 hours back, and 4 reunions. Cloud returns home after far too long away. Immediately post-KH1.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Time and Place

**1 - the _highwind_ , 5:26pm**

To say he feels out of place is an understatement. His surroundings are almost like a mirage, untouchable and unreal. He grips his seat with both hands just to make sure he’s actually sitting there, and even then it’s not enough to convince him that he’s finally going home.

Unlike everything else of Cid’s, his ship is neat and organized. Cloud’s cabin is spotless - linoleum floors wink at him, and pale blue wallpaper lulls him into a sense of security he hasn’t felt in ages. Still, the emptiness of the place is unnerving, and Cloud keeps his sword within hand’s reach. He hasn’t been inside an air conditioned room in close to a decade, and the coolness against his skin is foreign, though not entirely unwelcome.

The door slides open, allowing another breath of stale air in. Cid plops into the chair across from his passenger with a groan, rubbing the small of his back with one hand.

“The cramps you get up there, holy shit,” he complains, but winks when Cloud meets his eye. “I can’t feel my ass half the time, and those Moogles ask why I get up to stretch so much. They’re so dense it hurts.”

Cid’s barely changed at all, Cloud thinks, taking the pilot in with a sweeping glance. He dresses different, sure, and he’s sporting a scruffy little beard he’s sure Cid never had before. There’s a toothpick in his mouth in lieu of a cigarette. The small things are the same: his same, faithful gloves cover calloused hands, engine grease smeared on his arms and shirt; his hair is short and artfully disheveled as it always is, pushed back by his ever-present goggles; and, perhaps the most relieving, there was still that playful twinkle in his eyes, though Cloud thinks those eyes have gained some hidden depths.

“You’ve got Moogles flying this ship?” Cloud jokes, his voice quiet. It’s metallic and rough from disuse, but Cid seems to have no trouble hearing him. He grins goodnaturedly.

“They’re smart kids,” he admits, “but no, I don’t. They do extra stuff for me, like run inventory and whatnot - they come with me on runs to sell their shit and turn a profit. I put the ship on autopilot. Came back here to see if you’d puked on anything yet after that space turbulence.” He gives the room a fleeting glance and sniffs the air once. “Seems you didn't. Congrats, you passed the test.”

In spite of his discomfort, Cloud smiles. It’s not much of a gesture, just a small turn of his lips, but it’s enough for Cid. He beams and stands up, a chuckle low in his throat. “It’s good to see you again, kid. We’ll be landing soon, so hold on to yer britches. We’ll get some hot food in you soon.”

Cid ruffles Cloud’s hair affectionately before leaving him in the cabin again. Even through the door, he can hear Cid talking gruffly to the Moogles with him in the cockpit.

**2 - the library, hollow bastion, 7:18pm**

Yuffie sits him down in the coziest armchair in the room, closest to the fireplace. It’s winter in the Bastion, she informs him as she shoves a bowl of Cid’s piping hot stew in his hands, and catching frostbite on the first day back would suck. A lot.

“Nine years is a lot,” she continues, spooning herself a generous bowl of the stew as everyone else settles in. “Where can we even start?”

Aerith, alarm written in her features, reaches out to touch Yuffie’s arm. “Maybe we shouldn’t-”

“Oooh, I know!” She plops herself haphazardly in between Aerith and Cloud, inadvertently splashing some stew on both of them. “Traverse Town! You never got to see it there, did ya, Cloud?”

“I didn’t,” he admits, and mouths, “It’s fine,” over her head to Aerith. “Traverse Town?”

“Our in-between town,” Leon supplies, not looking up from his bowl. “Home, for a long time.”

Yuffie nods enthusiastically. As she talks, he watches her - he knew her when she was small, just reaching his elbow. Years had passed, and she’d matured into someone almost unrecognizable. Her hair fell into her eyes with an easy sort of grace, her demeanor exuding a sort of nonchalant air, as if what she were doing required little of her attention. Still, the way she lights up and jabbers on in his presence reminds him that this is Yuffie Kisaragi - and he shouldn’t expect anything besides relentless optimism. It’s refreshing, actually.

“...always so dark,” he hears, as he tunes back in. “Sometimes it would look like the sun was setting, but that was as light as it got.”

“It was bright where I was,” he tells her. “Sun and sand everywhere. Hot and muggy every single day.”

Her eyes go wide - it’s the first piece of information he’s offered the group about his time at the Coliseum. She flicks at a spike in his hair. “That explains why your hair’s so light, huh?” Her smile is warm and endearing, and he can’t help but let his mood rise. “You haven’t tanned though. I guess that’s not a surprise.”

“What are you trying to say, Yuffie?”

She giggles and ducks down, pulling herself closer to him. She smells like the outdoors and fire and something else sweet. “Nothing, Cloud. I forgot how sarcastic you can be. Good to see you’ve kept your sense of humor.” She pecks him on the cheek. “Squall over there angsted for a long time after we left, so it’s good to see you’re not following his crap example.”

Cloud glances at Leon, who avoids his glance by tucking into his meal.

“It’s been too long, Cloudy. Did you try the stew?”

He hadn’t, actually. It is still warm when he spoons some into his mouth, and the taste of it nearly brings tears. The nostalgia floods back, and suddenly he feels welcome again, surrounded by familiar faces. It’d been far too long since he’d had a homecooked meal.

“It’s good,” he manages, letting the taste linger on his tongue. Yuffie smiles a 100-watt smile.

“It’s a Cid specialty. Worth stickin’ around for, isn’t it?”

**3 - fifth floor quarters, hollow bastion, 7:20am**

When Cloud wakes the next morning, the room is empty. The rumpled sheets on the bunk next to him tell Cloud that Leon is already up for the day, despite dawn being barely on the horizon. Pale light dapples in through the worn linen sheets that serve as their curtains, and the unusual brightness is a result of the snowy weather.

The air is cool against his skin, which makes Cloud reluctant to get up from the warm blankets. (Yuffie had made sure he had enough blankets, piling them all up in the corner as if he'd die if he didn't use at least four.) He gets dressed slowly, and is just fastening his cloak when Leon comes in.

If he finds it odd that Cloud's up so early, he doesn't mention it. Leon continues drying his hair with his towel, barely glancing at his new roommate. "Did you sleep at all?"

It's a sort of strange question for anyone to ask Cloud, he thinks, since there’s so much he’s missed and his sleeping patterns aren’t very important by comparison. He takes his time fastening his belt to buy time before answering. "Not much."

Leon turns his face so Cloud can see the sideways, bitter smile that he gives him. "Me neither."

Of everyone, Leon's changed the most, Cloud thinks, as the leader of the gang rifles through his clothes to find his jacket. It's not just the name, it's everything. He carries such a heavy energy about him; the scar makes him look older, worn, and it's easy to remember that he spent most of his teen years trying to keep an entire universe safe. He wears his responsibility on his shoulders like armor, hiding himself in doubt and pain until he feels he's redeemed himself.

Cloud knows what that feels like.

Squall and Cloud had been good friends, but Leon and Cloud share the weight of their respective pasts, unable to shake them but desperate to move on. Suddenly, he wants to ask this new friend everything - he wants to know if he dreams of her like Cloud dreamed of his lost love, or if he sees the past just as vividly, or if he fights for the same reasons - but they're not that close yet. And Cloud's never been good with words anyway.

Leon tucks his gunblade into one of his belts, but pauses before steps out the door. “It’ll be nice having an extra hand around here,” he says, and Cloud assumes that’s his way of saying _It’s good to have you back_. “Get downstairs quickly, you don’t want to be late. Aerith’ll have your head...or worse.”

He vanishes out the door, leaving Cloud alone in the too-cold room. Cloud sighs to himself, adjusts his cloak, and follows.

**4 - third floor balcony, hollow bastion, 11:32am**

Regardless of how he’s been accepted back home, Cloud still feels like an intruder. For years, it was just the four of those guys - and suddenly, here he is.

They give him until the end of the week to rest. He’d spent the past nine years fighting to stay alive, so it’s only fair he’s given a break before being thrown into Leon’s tentative restoration measures. So Yuffie and Leon are out on their rounds, Cid’s retreated back to the Gummi hangar, Aerith is patrolling the castle, and Cloud is on the library balcony in solitude.

It’s snowing, flakes falling in no particular rhythm and sticking to everything. In Thebes, it’d snow for maybe a day or two a year but never more, and Cloud had forgotten how, well, _magical_ it looks. He stands at the railing, gloved hands gripping the rusty bannister. In the distance, he can see Yuffie and Leon trudging through the weather, the former laughing and shouting and sprinting through the snow while the latter follows more slowly. Around them, the ruins look otherworldly in their new covering, unwilling to change.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

He jumps, swiveling around and instinctively reaching for where he normally keeps his sword. Aerith closes the sliding door behind her, cheeks flush and smile bright. Suddenly, Cloud feels naked and hot - why had he not worn all his extra armor today? And this cloak is too heavy and reeks of sand and he really should consider getting a new one. She stands next to him and looks out over the balcony, snowflakes catching in her hair.

“I missed the snow, too,” she admits, her voice warm. “It barely snowed in Traverse Town.”

“Yeah,” he mutters. He attempts to appear less flustered than he is. “Same here.”

He’s never been very talkative, so they stand in the snowy silence as she pauses to admire the weather. This is their first time alone since their initial greeting in the library, which had been a sniffly hug and she’d whispered “Oh, he found you there, thank _goodness_ ” and that was pretty much it. There’s so many things he wants to tell her, perched at the top of his throat and suffocating him. _I dreamed of you every night. I saw you everywhere. I thought about you all time. I’d miss you so much it would hurt. I might love you._

Instead, what he manages to cough out is, “How did you know I was there?”

She tilts her head, brows knitting. _God, you’re beautiful_. The movement dislodges some of the flakes settling in her hair, which effortlessly frames her face in bangs and loose curls. “Cid mentioned the world when he said it was on his route,” she says slowly, “and - I don’t really know - I felt something. It sounded right. He didn’t check for you until yesterday, and, well...I guess that was all for the better.”

She smiles, and his stomach flips over, the traitor. He quickly averts his eyes.

“It was good he came then,” Cloud admits. “I was pretty lost.”

She gives him that questioning look, so he elaborates. “I made a deal with one of Maleficent’s colleagues, and it didn’t...I didn’t find what I was looking for. I fell into darkness and couldn’t find the light.” He echoes the words he said to Sora a few weeks earlier. Absently, his hand goes to his shoulder; the skin over his shoulder blade shivers at the touch, as if the dark wing that sprouts there can sense he’s talking about it. It’s the physical manifestation of his decision, and he fears it’ll appear soon in the presence of all these old friends.

Aerith spares a fleeting glance at his shoulder, but doesn’t comment. She contemplates the snow for a few moments, leaving him in suspended agony.

“Well,” she finally manages, “we can help you find it.”

This time when she smiles at him, he feels all of his barriers melt. Aerith has certainly grown up - she holds herself upright, an undeniable feel of maturity and responsibility radiating off her. She’s just 23, but she has wisdom beyond her years, a result of being forced to grow up in such a short window of her life. Still, her smile is timeless - her eyes sparkle and her teeth gleam and her lips part and curve so perfectly, it brings him back to their school days, to the good times before everything went to hell. It emboldens him, so he meets her eyes and says carefully, “I think I won't have to look much further.”

Seeing her face light up is probably the highlight of his first hours back.

She links her arm through his and leans her head on his shoulder, sighing lightly. Cloud can feel her warmth through his cloak, and it’s stabilizing and reassuring. For the first time since disembarking, the ground beneath him feels solid and steady, and it’s becoming clear that he’s here to stay. There’s no more living in the streets of Thebes or fighting in the Coliseum for munny. He’s so tired of being intimidating and cold-shouldered and villainous - he has a home now, and not even Hades can drag him back.

With some hesitation, he rests his head against hers. She smells like lavender. “I missed you,” he mumbles into her hair.

Gently, Aerith squeezes his arm in response. “It’s been so long,” she whispers, sounding muffled in the snow. “It’s about time you came home.”


End file.
